


happy camper

by binarylarry



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (suicide won't be idealized but keith is unlearning suicidal ideation), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Male Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Mutual Pining, Shiro (Voltron) is a Good Sibling, Strangers to Lovers, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-06-25 07:45:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15636318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/binarylarry/pseuds/binarylarry
Summary: keith is a summer camp counsellor to pay for his second year of astrophysics thanks to shiro's recommendation. his brother thinks the sunshine and exercise will be good for him. he's grateful, but not great with kids. however, lance is. and keith doesn't know if he wants to punch him in the face or kiss him,,,





	1. welcome to camp voltron

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> starting things off slow, but strap in for my deep dive into expressing emotional honesty about mental health n sex! my fucking bread and nutter
> 
>  
> 
> tw: mentions of keith's attempted suicide and suicidal ideation, p brief and vague but still. keith is v much going to work on his shit, but i'm a slow writer and it's OK if you're not in a place to read this kind of content. take care of urself!

Shiro’s hands on the steering wheel make Keith feel small. He shrinks into the passenger seat, wishing he could drive. Missing his motorcycle. 

Keith is tired, but he’s always tired. 

The trees an endless green blur an hour in, they’ve burst the bubble driving outside the city, ushering in a quiet calm. Tires on pavement. Keith sticks his head out the window and closes his eyes. The yellow lines of the highway still stutter through his brain. The wind crashing mute on his mind, he forgets that the air conditioner is broken, baking them. 

But then the sun falls out of the sky and it’s night, wind whipping through his helmet, hands heavy on the metal of his motorcycle and he can’t, he can’t. 

He can’t. 

Keith opens his eyes and turns the radio up. Shiro looks over. Too long to be a mirror check. Keith feels like a child. He can’t drive. He can’t even adjust the fucking volume without Shiro worrying. Keith wants to bury all these useless fucking feelings. 

Regardless or perhaps because, Shiro keeps up a conversation effortlessly; idle chit chat between brothers. Time passes humorous. Meaningless, but it means a lot to Keith. He knows Shiro knows that. He’s such a good brother. 

Better than Keith deserves. 

Keith’s grateful Shiro got him a job, but he’s not great with kids. 

He has no choice - summer camp counsellor is a joke, but if his bank account balance is funny he’s not fucking laughing. 

Fuck. Another thing he can’t do – swear around the kids. 

The highway hiccups into a dirt road. They drive into the density of the trees, slowly so not to stray from the bumpy path. “Camp Voltron” says the sign on the entrance gate, guarded by whittled wooden lions. Keith can’t believe he’s going to be stranded here for eight weeks. With children. 

“Do you remember when you were a camper here?” Shiro ask, pulling into a parking space. 

“I was twelve,” Keith says, letting the memory of the lake sink, “so not really.”

Keith stares at Shiro’s hand, his knuckles, as he gears down into neutral. Nothing really happened anyways. He continues staring at the gear shift as Shiro touches his shoulder, leans in. 

“Keith,” Shiro says, searching for his brother’s eyes, “are you going to be okay?”

Keith hesitates, then, looking up, “Yeah. Of course. Shiro, it’s me.”

“I know,” Shiro says. “I just worry.”

“I know.” 

*

Keith knows Shiro’s sticking around to make sure he’s going to be okay under the guise of nostalgia. Shiro reminisces about when he was a summer student here, noting changes to the campground. Keith’s shoulders slump with the burden of being a bother. Shiro almost unconsciously takes the shoulder strap off Keith’s sports bag and slings it over his. 

The camp is smaller than he remembers. Maybe he’s taller. Regardless, he swallows the urge to take the truck for a quick dip in the lake. He has to stop thinking about the damn lake. It’s hot today, that’s all that thought is. 

“The food’s not so bad,” Shiro says, and Keith’s trying to listen, but Shiro’s voice bubbles, “but ketchup never hurts.”

“Shiro!” 

Keith instinctively looks for who spoke and sees curly hair and confidence coming straight for them. 

“Allura,” Shiro says, fondness crinkling his eyes, “how are you?”

“Tip top, obviously,” Allura says. She has triangles of pink underneath her eyes. Keith doesn’t know how. 

“I see you’re taking over as head counsellor. Congratulations,” Shiro says, gesturing to a pin on her breast pocket. It shines in the sunlight. “You’re going to be great.”

Shiro unfailingly facilitates space for people to feel good about themselves. He looks so happy? Keith doesn’t know how he does that either. If he does it on purpose, or if he just is happy. 

“Thank you! That means a lot coming from you. I’m heading with Lotor. We’re the perfect pair,” Allura says, though from the tone of her voice Keith can’t tell if she’s serious or not. Her hair is very distracting. Allura turns to Keith and says, “My apologies, I’m being rude. You must be Keith.”

“Hey,” Keith says, shaking her proffered hand firmly. At least he can fake a handshake. 

“I’m Allura,” Allura says.

“Keith,” Keith says, then feels stupid. 

“I’ve heard so much about you from your brother! I can’t wait to work with you,” Allura says. She’s so genuine Keith feels fake. She does look happy to meet him. She must be good at her job. “We’ll be starting orientation shortly, but please! Unpack your things in the counsellor’s cabin. It’s that one over there.”

“Sure, thanks,” Keith says, following her pointing finger. 

“Shiro, you probably want to return home. It’s a long drive,” Allura says. Then, “Is it silly I feel like you should be joining us?”

“Not at all, but I know that you got this,” Shiro says, clapping a hand on her shoulder. Then, looking over at Keith, “Let’s get you a good locker.”

“Are there bad lockers?” Keith says. 

“Of course not,” Allura says, beaming. Checking the watch on her wrist, “Shiro, I’m so glad you’re doing well. Drive safe and know you’re always welcome here if you want to visit.”

“You know, I just might,” Shiro says. “I can always go for good campfire.”

“As can I, as long as no one sets their eyebrows on fire,” Allura says, laughing. 

“I believe Coran has become familiar with Smokey the Bear since the incident,” Shiro says.

“I believe he has,” Allura says. “Keith, we’ll be meeting in the mess hall in half an hour. I look forward to seeing you then.”

“Half an hour,” Keith says with a nod. 

*

The counsellor’s cabin is a time capsule. There’s patchwork throws on a couch facing a big block of a television hooked up to a VCR. Shelves are stocked with nineties memorabilia including but not limited to VHS tapes, a boombox, cassettes, and board games Keith is barely old enough to have played as a child. 

“Reception’s terrible up here,” Shiro says. 

“No shit – look at this,” Keith says, picking up a Hello Kitty walkie talkie.

“Use that satellite phone if you need me,” Shiro says, picking up a flip phone. “Or ask Pidge, he’s probably got something. He’s good with computers.”

Speaking into Hello Kitty, Keith says, “Roger that,” and sets the walkie talkie down. 

Shiro smiles and says, “I think the range on those are about one hundred feet. A little short.”

“A little.” 

Shiro has his own problems and he can’t always be helping everyone but himself. But here he is, miles out of the city, having a stupid conversation with his little brother. Keith doesn’t want to call, but if he doesn’t, Shiro will spend more time trying to get him on the phone. Shiro deserves better. 

“I think you’re going to get along with everybody. This is a really good group,” Shiro says. 

“I’ll be fine,” Keith says. Shiro laughs, but it’s a bit sad. “I’m not twelve anymore.”

“Just a little older,” Shiro says. 

“A little?” Keith says, indignant. 

“You know I love you,” Shiro says, pulling him into a hug.

“I love you, too,” Keith says, muffled by Shiro’s shoulder. 

*

When his brother leaves, Keith feels blind. His sports bag unzipped, he’s unpacking but he can’t really process anything. He didn’t bring much. It doesn’t take long. 

Afterwards, he heads over to the mess hall, squinting in the sun. Ten minutes to spare. No reception on his pocketed phone. 

Inside, Allura is at a picnic table stacked with paperwork sitting next to a pretty boy with perfect hair. When Keith walks in, she looks up and smiles.

“All unpacked?” Allura says.

“Yeah, thanks,” Keith says. 

“You must be Keith,” the pretty boy says, straightening papers. “I’m Lotor.”

“Hey.”

“Please, join us,” Allura says. Keith has no footing, so he sits. “Everybody should be arriving shortly.”

“Hey buddy,” says the big guy who sits down on his right. “I’m Hunk.”

“Keith,” Keith says, wondering if Hunk gets tan lines from his yellow headband. 

“You’re the new guy,” says the person on his left. 

“You’re new?” long pink ponytail says as she sits down across the table, joined by another with a very serious expression. 

“I am.” 

“I’m new, too! Ezor, pleasure.” She extends her hand in a way Keith can’t shake but can kind of delicately hold. “We can be new together!”

“Acxa,” Acxa says, monotone with an affirmative nod. 

“And I’m Pidge,” Pidge says on his left. 

“You’re good with computers,” Keith says.

“Good? I’m the best,” Pidge says, scoffing. 

“Modest, too,” Hunk says. 

“Hello, ladies,” says the voice of the body sliding in next to Acxa. He does so with way too much eyebrow action. 

“Lance,” Acxa says. 

“Acxa, how’s my favourite robot lover?” Lance says. Acxa looks disinterested but Lance doesn’t notice, or if he does, he isn’t bothered. “And who’s your friend?”

“Ezor, pleasure,” Ezor says, extending her hand again. Unphased, Lance theatrically places it in his own. 

“I’m Lance. The Lance, as you’ve no doubt heard since Acxa and I are like this,” Lance says, leaning in towards Ezor by slinging an arm over Acxa.

“Real subtle,” Hunk says. 

“Subtly is my forte, thanks, Hunk,” Lance says. Acxa purposefully plucks Lance’s hand off her shoulder and he lets his arm drop. “Ezor, I think you’ll find I’m good at many things.”

“Shameless being number one,” Pidge says. Ezor giggles. Acxa rolls her eyes. 

“Alright, that’s enough of that,” Lotor says.

“Let’s begin,” Allura says. 

They pass out paperwork. Keith shuts up and signs. Thinking of his tuition, he fills out his forms carefully. He takes notes on the specifics so if he forgets he won’t have to ask stupid questions. 

The camp is eight weeks. The first week is program planning. Eight campers and two counsellors stay in one of four cabins. The fifth cabin is the black counsellor’s cabin, where Allura and Lotor will be. Acxa and Ezor are blue; Hunk and Pidge are yellow; Coran and Matt, whoever they are, are green; Keith and Lance are red. 

Keith hopes Lance isn’t feeling left out and stuck with him, but Lance high fives him across the table and says, “Alright!” at the announcement. 

For the first time, Keith actually thinks this summer might be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope your summer is also gonna be okay!! it feels so good to finish a chapter! hope it felt good to read!! comment cos i'd love to know what yr thinking!
> 
> i always write fics that are one hundo sex driven, so i'm trying out actual character growth. feels good, man 
> 
> u can also hmu on tumblr, i'm @babynerdburger


	2. workplace harrassment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> keith just wants to do his damn job

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, keith's p ambivalent about the whole being alive thing, so take care reading if you're sensitive to that kind of content! 
> 
> on the up and up, keith hits it off on lance (altho lance may have been more hitting on him)

“It’s my second year here, so if you have any questions, I got you, fam,” Lance says as they peel off in pairs from the mess hall meeting.

“Thanks.”

A map rises in Keith’s mind as if he’s sifting through a dream as they walk. The smell of sweat and sunscreen is the same, but runners on dirt is such a softer sound than the wet slap of bare feet on the well-worn wood of the docks. But when the lake surfaces the camp becomes a nightmare. The daydream evaporates.

His throat’s dry. It’s going to be a long summer.

“Over there is the black, which you probably already know. There’s the washrooms – we have plumbing, so don’t worry about that. That’s the craft hut and you saw the cars at the front entrance. We have a bus, which Coran can drive, but he’s still in the city with Matt. They’re doing registration…”

“Mm,” Keith says at Lance’s pause.

“Sorry, this is probably a lot of information after all that paperwork.’

“It’s okay.”

“I’m kind of self-conscious about talking too much, so let me know.”

“Sure.”

“Anyway, you’ll get to know your way around pretty fast. It’ll feel like a lot at first, but it’s actually a small campsite. And there’s signs everywhere.”

“Yeah, and I’ve been here before.”

“Oh, did you work here before?”

_Shit._

“No.”

“Ah, so you were a camper.”

_Fuck._

“Yeah.”

Lance stops to gesture grandly at the red cabin and says, “This is our baby. Last year I was blue with Hunk, but Pidge is new too, and they’re yellow now, which is great because then I get to know you."

The red cabin opens creaky into a large room with four bunk beds. There’s a door at the front and back and a window on each side. Symmetrical. Keith likes it.

“The kids sleep here,” Lance says, walking straight through. He opens a door to a smaller room which Keith follows him into. Inside are two wooden twins sandwiching another door, on which is hooked a broom and dustpan. “We sleep in here.”

“Okay.”

“This door locks, so you can keep some of your stuff in here or leave it in the black,” Lance says. “The drawers here,” Lance pulls a drawer from under the bed, “open. No food, though.”

“Obviously.”

Lance pulls out a transparent bin from the drawer and places it on the floor, which ruins the symmetry. Keith decides that’s fine. Keith opens it and methodically takes stock from the emergency kit list like Allura said to do.

“This is for you,” Lance says, handing him a red walkie talkie from the bin and pocketing the other. Keith takes it and checks it off the list. “You’re supposed to keep it on you.”

“Okay.”

Keith hopes they won’t have an emergency in which they’ll have to use these supplies. It’s good to have them, but he wants the eight weeks be uneventful. Nothing more than a paycheque. A soon forgotten dream.

“So, what are you taking?” Lance says. He grabs the broom to get at cobwebs in the corners of the cabin. 

“Inventory,” Keith says. Lance laughs but Keith doesn't know what's funny. 

“No, like, what are you studying?” Lance says.

“Astrophysics,” Keith says.

The fact that all the emergency kit items are new and only need to be signed off on is reassuring.

“That’s so cool. You must be good with numbers.”

“Yeah.”

“What year are you going into?”

“Second.”

“Nice, me too. I’m majoring in marine biology. I fricking love the ocean."

Keith keeps checking down the list. Lance keeps sweeping.

“What do you love?”

Keith doesn’t know how to respond to that.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?” Lance repeats. “The question doesn’t work like that.”

“I work like that.”

“That’s no fun.”

“Why does it have to be fun?”

“Keith, do you really live your life like this?”

Keith lets the question be swept up by Lance into a neat little dirt pile.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Do you always ask this many questions?” Keith says, annoyed.

“Sorry, do you have boyfriend? A non-binary significant other?”

“You do always ask this many questions.” Keith notices his check marks becoming bolder as the pen presses involuntarily harder into the page.

“I’m curious,” Lance says. “Is that a bad thing?”

After a couple minutes, Lance breaks Keith’s silence, saying, “Hey, you like me, right?”

“We just met.” Keith looks up from the check list. Lance is crouching down to sweep dirt into a dustpan. “How am I supposed to know?”

“That’s valid. And I know I can come on strong, and you seem kind of quiet… But seriously, let me know if I make you uncomfortable,” Lance says, without making eye contact. Is he uncomfortable? “We’ll be spending the whole summer together."

“Great.”

“Are you being sarcastic?”

“No.”

“I think you are, Keith. You’re hurting my feelings.” Lance dramatically tucks the broom handle under his arm in a way that’s supposed to be like being shot through the heart.

“My voice is just like that,” Keith says. Lance sinks slowly to the floor.

“I’m like Tinkerbell, bro,” Lance says, slumped. Keith sighs.

“Then perish,” Keith says, deadpan.

“Ah!” Lance yells, instantly reviving, pointing a finger at Keith. “I knew you’d be a memelord!”

“Oh my god,” Keith says, finishing off the check list and packing the emergency kit up. “Everything is here except your dignity.”

“I know we just met, but I can tell I like you,” Lance says, smiling. Keith reminds himself it’s rude to stare, especially at people’s mouths. “You’re mean though.”

“So, you’re a masochist.”

“Only if you’re into that,” Lance says, winking. "You know, we will be sleeping together all summer."

“This is workplace harassment.”

“Is it?”

“Yes.”

“Is it, though?”

“Yes!”

“But is it really?”

“Can we just work?”

“I’m just messing with you.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Why wouldn’t I do that?”

“Do you have to ask so many questions?”

Keith’s exasperated. What the fuck is Lance’s problem.

No, it’s his problem. Lance is just being nice and he’s the asshole. He needs to get out.

The cabin is closing in on him and the questions are falling away like the yellow lines on the road, but he won’t swerve, he won’t; his lips are parted but he can’t breathe. This feels fine.

This is what it feels like to be alive in the world.

“How else am I supposed to get to know you?” Lance looks genuinely confused. His voice changes from playful to serious, and that feels too honest.

His heart sounds great in his ears, which are not at all underwater.

“Keith, you’re a weird dude.”

“And?"

“I like it.”

What the hell is he supposed to do with that?

*

At five, they have dinner in the mess hall. Hunk is very good at making food. Keith sits by Hunk and Pidge and Lance sits by the girls and luckily pays little attention to him. He can get to know Ezor. Hunk and Pidge are talking about video games, and Hunk tries to include Keith, but he has no idea what Fork-knife is besides the utensils in his hands. 

Keith eats slowly, trying to pace himself with the other people. Allura asks him how he’s feeling, and he says good because that’s what you’re supposed to say. Allura beams and says something nice partly because it’s her job and partly because Shiro’s his brother.

Keith finishes eating at the same time as Pidge and he shows him where the dirty dishes go.

When Keith leaves the mess hall, the door mutes the noise and the night falls like a blanket over him. He notices how nice it is to breathe and just be. He’s full and he’s fine. It’s not so bad to be alive.

“Hey, Keith,” Lance says, stepping outside. Keith sinks into himself as Lance falls into his stride.

“Hey.”

Lance stays silent as Keith lets his feet take him to the black to grab his books, a flashlight, a lantern, and his sleeping bag to the red. Lance grabs a few things of his own. Keith’s a couple chapters in when Lance speaks again.

“So, you love books?” His voice is quieter than usual. Respectful that Keith’s reading?

“Mm,” Keith says.

“And you hate talking.”

“I don’t hate it.”

“Oh, so you just hate talking to me.”

“Lance, I don’t –”

“I’m just messing with you.” Lance laughs but it’s not believable.

Keith folds his book over his finger to say, “So you like fucking with people.”

“What? No. No, I want to get to know people and you happen to be more defensive than the average person.” Keith bluntly opens his book and reads attentively. “Can you tell me when I’ve unlocked your tragic backstory?”

“Can you let me read?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Lance says, zipping into the jacket hung on his bed post. “I’ll be in the yellow.”

Keith turns the page, making a “mm” of acknowledgement. In his periphery, he sees Lance look back before closing the door quietly.

*

Later, when Lance returns, he gets a face full of flashlight and realizes Keith’s fallen asleep with his novel on his nose. Lance carefully bookmarks Keith’s book with his flashlight, hoping it’s the right page, then gets into his own sleeping bag wondering if Keith brushed his teeth.

*

Keith wakes up with a mouth like a wasteland and the thought that it should be called mourning breath. He pulls his runners on barefoot, his socks long lost to the depths of his sleeping bag. The air feels fresh in the morning, until he yawns, and his mouth is rot. He takes his toothbrush and a handful of clothes from the black, exchanging his shoes for sandals before heading to the washroom.

He needs to get more organized, but he’s too fucking tired to care. The sun is sleepy, lidded low over the trees, and the air is cold in his face in a way that feels clean, except for his garbage mouth. All he cares about is his toothpaste and not that he has to use a communal washroom. At least it's separate from the one the kids use. 

His mouth full of mint, he sees Lance walk in in the mirror, joggers hung low on his hips. When he stretches, his T-shirt rides up to reveal hipbones and a happy trail. Keith spits and hopes he hasn’t fucked his enamel.

“Morning,” Lance yawns.

“Morning,” Keith says.

“How’d you sleep?” Lance says.

“Terrible,” Pidge says, glasses dripping off his nose.

“Only because you stayed up reading all night, you nerd,” Hunk says, shuffling in behind Pidge.

"Reception's shit. What else can I do," Pidge says, somewhat incoherently through a yawn.

“Ha, so did Keith. I had to take his book off his face,” Lance says, his voice echoing from the showers. Keith hears the water turn on. Keith splashes cold water in his face, then quickly changes in a stall.

In the mess hall, Allura is plating a pancake breakfast and for dessert – an outline of the day. At least there’s coffee, which Pidge seems to want to drown in. Keith’s right behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> keith is really going thru it huh
> 
> hit a bitch up on tumblr @babynerdburger
> 
> head's up, my semester's starting soon so idk when i'll be able to update, but if you've read my other fics you already know i'm a slow af writer!! i'm out here trying my best lmao
> 
> pls comment n let me know what you think in the memetime. release your inhibitions, feel the rain on your skin and the notifications in my inbox


End file.
